Simeon: A Nosferatu's Tale
by Watercat51
Summary: The newest member of San Francisco's Nosferatu Clan learns to survive and thrive as he interacts with his sire Daedalus. This story begins during the middle of Frank's Journey. Mostly Daedalus and Simeon OMC , but also contains scenes with Frank & Julian.


_None of the characters (except for Simeon) are mine_

_I'm not making any money on this_

_Kindred is Rein-Hagen's & Firefly is Joss Whedon's world._

_This story begins in the middle of "Frank's Journey" and continues into the far future._

_Thank you to Anonymous on LJ for suggesting and providing comments on Firefly and thank you to Ne'ith5 for your message. Real Life has gotten both hectic and complicated. There's still more stories for me to write, but I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post them._

* * *

Simeon

Time dilation was truly a unique and wonderful concept. Simeon Stefanopoulos was being briskly herded toward an all-too-rapidly approaching doorway by his future sire - his all-too-soon future sire. Oh, he still wanted the embrace Daedalus was offering him but, he was nervous. No, the stocky young man with the rapidly receding hairline and thinning black hair had to admit to himself: he was scared. It wasn't everyday someone just sat there while letting someone else drain them near dry and then trusted that someone to bring them back from near death. Daedalus had explained the embrace and the subsequent change to Nosferatu Kindred to his future childe in exhaustive detail.

Simeon's head was spinning, figuratively speaking of course: Five hours ago he'd been blissfully ignorant of the world he was about to enter - and then Detective Kohanek had come to his haven. _Damn!_ He wasn't even Nosferatu yet and he was already picking up their lingo. The twenty-three year- old man's thoughts rambled on, distancing and distracting himself from any thoughts of his near future … and what a wonderfully distracting place he was in. Part of the hour and a half question and answer 'discussion' he'd just shared with his future sire had included overviews of all the Kindred Clans.

Simeon's eyes flickered as he walked past art work he'd only seen in books, on the 'net or in the cheap reproductions he'd found in his dumpster diving forays. Power, prestige, and exquisitely disciplined taste; Julian Luna's home reeked of Ventrue taste and style - and Ventrue money. The polished-to-a-shine-you-could-see-yourself-in doors he was walking rapidly past weren't even the first clue. Simeon's steps slowed. He really did want a better look at some of those paintings, he thought before hearing a mildly chiding comment coming from behind his shoulder.

"Childe, you will have the rest of a very long life to appreciate Julian's art." Daedalus' voice was quiet as, reaching past his charge, he opened the door leading to his haven in the lower part of his Prince's cellars.

________________________________________________________________________

_Artist, Alchemist, Politician, and Physician; I've never met a renaissance man before_. Simeon didn't know where to look first. So this was Daedalus' haven. A slowly turning industrial fan was embedded in the rear wall of the cul-de-sac. There were paintings in various stages of composition stacked against the walls of the corridor. _He's an artist._ Simeon's head tilted to the right as he stopped to stare at the portrait occupying the prominently placed easel with the large grey wing-backed chair placed before it. _That's the Prince. Hmm - It is a rather abstract version of him. I wonder what else my sire is capable of._ Dust motes hung in the air, glittering and glowing in the reflected light of the furnace grate at the entrance to this cozy space.

"Does my haven meet with your approval, childe?"

Simeon turned; his brown eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity and good humor. He was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. The wing-back chair was now turned to face the rear wall - and Simeon. Daedalus was seated, his back barely touching the chairs' back; with only the faintest hint of the amusement the young, soon-to-be Nosferatu was certain his future sire was feeling showing in the older Nosferatu's eyes. A lit cigarette was in Daedalus' hand.

"It's wonderful," Simeon said simply. "You have an art collection too … and will I have the rest of a very long life to appreciate _**your **_collection as well?"

_I'll have to watch for that innocent look of his,_ thought the elder Nosferatu as a perfectly round smoke ring hung in the air before him. Standing, he dropped the cigarette to the floor where a well-placed shoe quickly stubbed the butt into oblivion.

"Yes, you will and I shall look forward to your help in cleaning my canvasses and brushes." _Ah …, how fortunate, my childe's face reflects his every emotion. That should prove useful. _Daedalus savored the look of slight horror and distaste on young Simeon's face his words had provoked. "… but, now we need to finish what we discussed in Julian's study."

_____________________________________________________________________

A look of curiosity replaced the remnants of distaste lingering on Simeon's face as Daedalus steered the young computer geek around a concealed corner opening into another room. His breath caught. Geek Heaven! This was Daedalus' alchemical lab. A large rectangular table was to his right and stacks of shelves lining the walls behind the table contained all sorts of intriguing looking bottles and beakers. Simeon's hands twitched as he longed to rush over and start doing more than just looking. He wanted to find out what was in those bottles. He saw several of what he could only describe as comfy chairs scattered about the room, and …, OH. MY. GOD ... The books! There were ranks of shelves to his left. They ran the whole length of the wall. There had to be at least twenty feet of them. Simeon's body was all but quivering as the Nosferatu Primogen pushed or, more kindly referred to as: firmly steered, him through an opened door opposite the one they'd entered by.

_Ah…, a bedroom. I wondered where he hid it. _Simeon's adam's-apple bobbed noticeably at his heavy swallow. Feeling Daedalus' hand leave his shoulder, the young, almost Nosferatu turned his head to look back at his mentor.

"Now?" His voice was more plaintive than he would have liked, but Daedalus didn't seem to be disappointed. The Nosferatu's pleasantly monotonous voice replied calmly, "Yes."

_I don't want to disappoint him. _Simeon took a deep breath and limped to the iron bedstead with its variety of wool blankets, mostly in shades of black and grey. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he looked up and asked, "Do you really think you can fix my leg?"

The Nosferatu Primogen nodded. "Yes, I do. Shall we get started?"

________________________________________________________________________

Simeon lay in the center of the bed. Goosebumps were rising on his bare legs and he was trying not to squirm as the elder Nosferatu poked and prodded the extremely sore flesh of his right thigh. After his barely restrained flinch at a particularly deep exploration of one of the most painful and stiffened areas, Daedalus looked up. Quiet pride and approval shone in the man's dark eyes as his right hand came up to cradle the side of Simeon's face. Rubbing his thumb soothingly against the younger man's right temple, Daedalus waited until Simeon's head turned and their eyes met before saying, "You're doing well. I know it hurts. Since your leg never healed correctly, the muscles have stiffened over the last twelve years to compensate for your irregular gait. If you will allow me, I can take most of the discomfort away." With Simeon's nodded consent, Daedalus' pupils widened and darkened as he caught the soon-to-be Nosferatu's eyes and moved swiftly into the younger man's mind.

_______________________________________________________________________

Cocooned in warmth and security, Simeon lay still and relaxed as his right leg was broken for the second time in his life. Hearing a sharp crack, he rolled his head to the right to watch as Daedalus, tugging and pulling, reshaped the muscles in his leg.

"You know Rolfing too?" He murmured in sleepy amazement.

_He has one of the most eclectic minds I've seen in several centuries. Rolfing; I wonder what other bits of extraneous new age information he's collected. _Daedalus smiled as he congratulated himself on his good fortune. _I've chosen well. Simeon is a packrat of knowledge. He'll be a perfect addition to the Nosferatu Clan and he'll be a good childe to me as well, at least once he's learned Nosferatu manners and discretion. I'm glad it was Frank Kohanek who discovered your unauthorized forays into Kindred websites, childe. Innocent curiosity is no excuse, and meaning well would not stop a furious Brujah Clan from destroying the person sifting through their hidden accounts or sneaking into their chat rooms. Although …, nosiness __**is**__ an important Nosferatu trait when properly contained. _

Daedalus' mouth twitched. He couldn't help himself. _Sewer dwelling Dungeons and Dragons devotees indeed! Childe, Camilla's tongue lashings could strip the hide off of you and most of the older Nosferatu have truly vicious senses of humor. _Daedalus did not even want to contemplate what Goth, his predecessor as Primogen of the Nosferatu, would have done to the young man currently staring with sleepy curiosity at Daedalus' efforts in reshaping his upper leg.

_There's no pain. _Simeon sighed, content, as he lazily rolled his head to watch Daedalus finish splinting his right thigh. The Nosferatu glanced up and, with a barely perceptible crinkling at the corners of his eyes and a slight rise at the corners of his lips, Daedalus reached out to grasp Simeon's chin. Rolling the twenty-three year-old man's head until their eyes once again met, he strengthened his hold on the younger man's mind before stretching out beside Simeon and beginning the embrace that would gain the Nosferatu a new addition to their clan.

_Wow, _thought Simeon as he lay listening to the calming thoughts his sire was projecting. _Even his mental voice is monotone._

* * *

It was a medium to large room. A large table was to his right. Stacks of shelves containing various bottles and beakers were lining the wall behind the table. Scattered around the room were several 'comfy' chairs, as his childe insisted on calling them. Running the length of the walls to his left were ranks of bookshelves filed with books of all shapes, sizes and bindings, most of them not less than two hundred years old. Tucked into a space on the far wall, between the end of the shelves and a doorway was a large table with the newest, most state-of-the-art computer know to Nosferatu or Man and before the computer sat a young Nosferatu.

A tall, robust, bald-headed man with overdeveloped veins and odd dangling earlobes on said bald head pursed his lips in annoyance and frustration. Daedalus stood at the entrance to his inner haven in the tunnels and cellars of his Prince's home. His black eyes narrowed as he watched his childe going where no young Nosferatu with any sense of self-preservation should be going without approval from their sire or, at least, their Primogen. Daedalus was both.

The Primogen of San Francisco's Nosferatu, felt every century of his extremely long life. Pressing his lips firmly together; a deep vertical line appeared between his eyebrows as they rose, contracting together to form into a disapproving frown. He obviously had failed to provide his new childe with enough to do. Simeon was searching forbidden websites again. Daedalus had no intention of allowing the young Nosferatu to continue courting the retaliation the clans would provide his childe if the young one would not learn to contain his inappropriate curiosity.

The elder Nosferatu shuddered to think of what the Brujah would do to his childe; … or what the Toreador's response would be to the young man's snooping. Another, deeper shudder ran through the normally phlegmatic Nosferatu's frame. Lilly would not bother to confront his childe: she would come directly to **him! **He did **not** want that woman plotting revenge against himself, his clan, and especially not his childe! The Nosferatu had long ago lost a much loved mortal child. He refused to let his newly embraced Kindred childe 'fly too close to the sun'. The Toreador Primogen could be a dangerous enemy, as the late Alexandra Serrais had learned to her detriment. Even Julian, Prince of the City that he was, had been the near victim of Lilly's vindictiveness. In spite of the woman's sometimes petty and petulant ways, Daedalus did not want to have to move against her. She _was_ useful. At the present, there were no other viable candidates for Toreador Primogen and he did not want to see the clan dissolve into the chaos a fight for the position would entail. Besides, he did like the woman. She could be quite charming when it pleased her to be so. On the other hand, she had courted her own final death when she admitted her complicity, to him, in the attempt on Julian's life during the late Eddie Fiori's failed coup attempt. At the time he had contained his wrath, but if Julian had not later turned up alive, Lilly would not have been far behind her sometime lover. The Nosferatu cherished the close friendship he had with Julian Luna. Daedalus considered his Ventrue protégé to be his closest friend and had admired the younger man since Julian had been embraced by the former Prince, Archon. When Julian had acknowledged that he also considered Daedalus as his closest friend, the Nosferatu ancient had been pleased.

That was the problem with going after Lilly. Daedalus would protect his own but so would Julian. The Nosferatu Primogen **would** stop Lilly at whatever the cost … and Julian would not be pleased. His Prince still had a soft spot for the woman, even though any love Julian might once have felt for her was rapidly fading. Julian also took his responsibility, as Prince, to keep the peace seriously. Closest friend or not, the Prince would be furious if Daedalus threatened that peace. With a heavy sigh, Daedalus stepped into the room.

* * *

Simeon Stefanopoulos started as he felt hands grip his shoulders and use that grip to turn the swivel chair he was seated in. The young Nosferatu looked up into his sire's expressionless face. _Oh, shit_ he thought as he watched Daedalus step back. Crossing his arms, the older Nosferatu continued to stare at the younger and at the blinking computer screen clearly visible over Simeon's shoulder. _Daedalus' face hasn't moved_. Simeon had learned to hate that expressionless 'expression' on his sire's face. The man was kind, he was patient, he was a good teacher and Simeon Stefanopoulos adored his sire. Daedalus had reshaped his life as well as the man had reshaped Simeon's leg. He valued the man's approval, but the older Nosferatu could also be implacable, immovable, and oh-so-determined when he deemed his childe's welfare was in doubt. Daedalus wasn't bothering to conceal his disappointment either. He'd lowered his shields enough so that Simeon was almost overwhelmed with the emotion. Blood tears formed in his eyes as he struggled to strengthen his own shields. His sire calmly unfolded his arms and handed his childe a clean paint rag.

"I apologize, childe. I have neglected you. You need to be provided with more to do. It is obvious that you have become bored. Otherwise you would not have returned to the activities you were warned against."

Simeon's eyes closed as he slumped in his chair. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_ It's been eleven months since he embraced me. I've known him long enough to translate Daedalus speak - _He's not going to let me out of his sight._

With a wintery smile on his lips, Daedalus said mildly, "Come childe, we need to review the Nosferatu mores and norms. We'll start with the Traditions."

* * *

Eleven Months Later

Simeon Stefanopoulos looked around the room. Heat radiated from the iron pipes overhead. _Warmth,_ he loved it, thought the young Nosferatu as he sat at a table consisting of a board and two sawhorses. Simeon had been reading Kindred history, specifically: The Inquisition and the first intimations of the Masquerade.

Life was good. Where else could he have access to such wonderful primary source material. He was reading **the** "Annals of the Inquisition". Simeon spared a small moment to wonder how these volumes had managed to find their way into the library of his Prince. The young Nosferatu had information at his fingertips that he had never dreamed existed before he'd met his sire. Now if he could just persuade Daedalus to allow him unfettered access to the internet again. It didn't even need to be unsupervised. Simeon just wanted to have his fingers on a keyboard again. He was born to be a gypsy of the internet - it was his calling. He'd stay away from the forbidden websites. He really would, especially after his last fiasco. The young man winced. Daedalus had made his point. This was the first time in eight weeks he hadn't had someone watching over his shoulder and he still wasn't allowed near a computer.

Simeon didn't think he could have been any more embarrassed when a conga line of dancing rats, blood dripping daintily from their teeny, tiny, extremely cute little fangs, all sang at the top of their squeaky little voices, "Simeon's being sneaky. Sneaky, sneaky Simeon." All that, and he'd only turned the computer on. As he heard the hard drive fuse and saw the monitor go into the blue screen of death, he'd simply reached down, unplugged everything, gathered up hard drive, monitor, and every peripheral he could hold and carried the lot over to his expressionless sire. As he dumped the armload he was carrying in front of Daedalus he said, "Take them. You were right. I _can't_ be trusted."

Simeon's thoughts returned to the present time to stare longingly at an alchemical text that he'd wanted to study for the past six months. _At least he's trusting me now -I don't want to fail him_. _Patience and discretion: those are two of my sire's favorite virtues. I need to cultivate them. I must stay away from his alchemical stuff - must - stay - away. I do not want to play the role of the Sorcerer's Apprentice. _Simeon's thoughts returned to his most recent debacle.

______________________________________________________________________

He had turned on his heel and returned to his chair as he settled in for the long wait he knew was coming before his sire would give him even a second of his time where he would not be under someone's watch.

* * *

Simeon blinked. Where was that paragraph? Ah … there it was … and on the twenty-fourth of July, in the year of our Lord, Fifteen Hundred and thirty-eight four of the cursed, contaminated beings … Gah …. Slamming the book shut in disgust, he wondered where the Church had found these sadists. The youngest Nosferatu in the city swallowed thickly; barely able to keep the results of his recent feeding down. He'd never joke about the Peasants revolting again. Looking at the details; The Church's inquisitors hadn't been the only sadists to bedevil the Kindred, and the Nosferatu had never been able to blend in with humanity, unlike the other Kindred Clans. _Kindred, Witches, Jews, Women, oh here's a nice vague one - heretics. I need a break from the Genocidal Chronicles here. I'll bet those old Inquisitors were looking cross-eyed at everyone they met-including themselves. So much for religious solidarity: Even the Brujah sense of community is more highly developed, _he thought with a derisive sniff. _Enough!_ Shoving his chair back, he stood and started to wander the room, pausing, with eyes blinking in a slow, steady, rhythmic beat, to stare at the beakers containing one of his Sire's most recent alchemical experiments. Simeon's nose twitched. Not too bad of a smell either. Several small sniffs later, the young Nosferatu's lips curled upward. _Honey, Daedalus' secret ingredient when he wants to make sure his patient won't spit the stuff back at him._

Head thrown back, his laughter echoing through the room and the corridors outside, Simeon placed his hands on his hips. _Better living through alchemy: I love it, especially after all those potions Daedalus poured down my throat during the worst of the change. _He would never forget the taste of honey and peppermint, no matter how many more centuries his life would now last and he knew he had still more potions to look forward to. His change from human to Nosferatu was not yet complete. Simeon would never have chosen to be embraced into any other clan than the Nosferatu, but he did envy the other clans their short changes. None of the others lasted longer than a few days. A Nosferatu childe could take two to four years to complete their change. Simeon brought his aching hands up to eye level. _My claws aren't fully developed yet. Daedalus said they could take another four to six months. Damn, they hurt. I hope my sire gets back soon. I'll ask him to wrap them in those warm paraffin wraps he's used so well on the rest of me._

In spite of the changes, the Nosferatu embrace sat lightly on Simeon. Like his sire, the young Nosferatu was far more attractive than the average member of their clan - or even some of the Brujah he had met. Prominent veins stood out on the top and sides of Simeon's bald head. That head was rather blocky as well, but then his face had been rather square before the change and even at twenty-three he'd been losing his hair. The tips and lobes of his ears were pointed. Those lobes even dangled half-way to his shoulders. Simeon's eyes were as black as those of his sire, and not the brown of before his embrace. If you looked closely, his teeth were slightly pointed.

Now in a much better mood, the young Nosferatu resumed his seat at the table and pulled the damned "Annals" to himself, nobly ignoring the much more fascinating alchemical texts nearby. He could almost hear those texts chanting, "Read us, read us. No dead and dismembered Kindred in us."

Taking firm hold of his mind, Simeon forced his mind back to the "Genocidal Jerk Manifesto." _My sire is correct. We do need to learn the ways, motivations, minds and tactics of our enemies, especially since "their spiritual descendents still plague us, Simeon Stefanopoulos_." The young man in question was determined to prove his discretion and growing talent for common sense to his sire. He was too old to require a full-time baby sitter; even if, in Nosferatu terms, he wasn't yet out of his childehood. Daedalus hadn't released him yet and Simeon wasn't planning to ask him to in the near future. He didn't want his release at the present time, but he did want his freedom. This was the first time he'd been left to his own devices in the last eleven weeks and five very long nights. Simeon winced at the memory of some of the 'childe-sitters' Daedalus had found for him.

* * *

One Week Ago

Frank Kohanek descended the stairs leading to the haven of his sire's closest friend and the man who had provided the Detective with the seemingly endless drills which had finally left Frank's mental shields impervious to anyone except his sire Julian- the Nosferatu Primogen, Daedalus. As he walked past paintings in various stages of composition, he heard voices. Lips twitching, he paused to study the finished portrait of his sire, Julian. His head tilted to one side as he looked more closely at the canvas in front of him: _It is a somewhat abstract portrait of Julian but it's definitely my sire._

Kohanek's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline as he turned his head to the well -concealed opening to Daedalus' inner haven. … _My former snitch is quite the politely persuasive young Nosferatu. Fortunately for Simeon, Daedalus isn't buying his arguments_. Frank snorted. This was amusing: even he didn't buy the kid's arguments, and he was one of the most relaxed and least authoritarian of the most authoritarian and elitist clan in the Kindred universe. Frank knew he'd tried the patience of both his sire, and his brood-brother, Sonny, several times over the last five years with his skittishness concerning Kindred authority lines, but Julian had never given up on him. He doubted Daedalus would be any more willing to give up on Simeon. Pressing his lips firmly together to stop the snicker that was threatening to slip past them, his lips quivered as he listened to the protests of the city's newest Nosferatu.

"I'll just sit here and read the Traditions. I can't get into trouble, there's no computer here anymore." _Geez, Kid. I know you have a better imagination than that. I know I do. Let's see … there's alchemy books, alchemy supplies … and who knows what other tempting temptations your sire has stashed in that haven of his._

Frank Kohanek drew in a deep breath, straightened his leather jacket, and let a sober expression settle over his face. _I'd better go rescue the Sorcerer from his Apprentice._

* * *

Simeon grimaced as he sat in one of the comfy chairs distributed around his sire's haven. This was embarrassing! Daedalus had to attend a conclave, and now he was stuck with a watcher. Why didn't his sire just tell all of San Francisco's Kindred that Daedalus didn't consider Simeon trustworthy enough to be left on his own. Well, on second thought, Simeon didn't even want to go there and his 'sitter' could have been worse. He owed Frank Kohanek and he knew it. Instead of throwing him at the Kindred Prince's feet when Simeon had inadvertently disclosed his knowledge of Kindred activities, the Detective had steered Daedalus to him.

Although: Now that he knew Prince Julian, Simeon doubted Julian Luna would have had him killed. _Our Prince is an efficient and effective protector of our Masquerade, but he is neither a cruel, nor a wasteful man. _Simeon Stefanopoulus knew his worth to the Kindred. Undisciplined snoop that he could sometimes be: he was also highly efficient and effective at what he did. Julian Luna would not have let him go to waste. If Daedalus had not made the request to embrace Simeon, the Prince would have made the young computer geek his own childe, and Simeon would not have turned the Ventrue down. In spite of the fear and distrust the young Nosferatu had felt upon first meeting his future Prince, he now knew the Ventrue was as capable of forcing his way into Simeon's mind as Daedalus had been. Oh, Julian did not have the benefit of Simeon's instant affinity for the Nosferatu Primogen and it would have taken the Prince longer, but Julian Luna was persistent, and patient. He would have overcome the younger man's fear and ignorance. Simeon shuddered at the thought of being answerable to Julian Luna as the man's childe. His Prince was too intense, too uptight, and, his thoughts paused, way too Ventrue. He was **so** in debt to Frank Kohanek. Simeon couldn't even contemplate the thought of himself as a Ventrue. _I'm a scholar: I don't care about prestige and I don't want to be an obsessive-compulsive, uptight Ventrue Professor at some prestigious University fighting to climb up the academic ladder. _Nope, Simeon preferred the much more laid back Nosferatu - free lance scholars for hire.

Startled by a loud scraping noise, he looked up to see Frank Kohanek dragging another of the room's comfy chairs toward him. The detective calmly positioned the chair to Simeon's right; let his body fall into it, wiggled until he'd found a comfortable position before stretching his legs out before him and then crossing those legs at the ankles.

With a speculative gleam in his eyes, Frank turned his head to the left, caught the young Nosferatu's eyes, and said mildly, "Julian's not that bad. My sire may have high expectations for his childer, but he will help them to reach those expectations and he does tailor his lessons to the abilities and personalities of each childe.

The Nosferatu's face paled, even more so than a Nosferatu's normal pallor, in embarrassment. _Crap. I'd forgotten he was one of the Prince's childer and now I've just insulted his sire in front of the man, not to mention that I've just broken I don't know how many Nosferatu norms and mores. I'd better make this right before __**my**__ sire calmly, patiently, and continuously drills me on our Nosferatu protocols for the next four nights._

Simeon shifted uncomfortably in his now not quite so comfy of a chair before turning his head to his right and saying sincerely, "I apologize for my comments, Frank Kohanek. I do not mean to cast aspersions on your Sire, Prince Julian. What recompense do you desire?"

_Amazing, _thought Frank Kohanek as he made sure his own mental shields were impenetrable. … _And Simeon thinks the Ventrue are uptight. Even we aren't this ritualized with our apologies - or the need for them._ Frank slid further down into his chair and stared at the hand-made, Italian, black-leather loafers on his feet, twisting those feet back and forth as he did so. _Hmm, there's a scuff mark by my right toe. I'll have to take care of that, _he thought before raising his head. With a smile and a wave of his hand he dismissed the necessity of Simeon's apology.

"Relax, kid. I'm not offended by your comments, and Julian wouldn't be either." _He'd probably be amused, but I'm not going to tell you that. "_He knows he's considered something of the Kindred boogie man. Keeping the Peace is the most important job a Prince has and that involves him being the Kindred judge, jury, and executioner in this city. It's not surprising many Kindred don't want to come to his attention, but in this case," Frank laughed, " The only thing he would do would be to advise you to practice your shielding. You're not contemplating rebellion or threatening either his position or the Masquerade, and it was obvious you didn't mean insult and, by the way kid, you can call me Frank." _The kid really should practice that shielding of his. Not that he thought anything particularly insulting, but not all Kindred are as forgiving as Julian and some would be glad to cry insult just to get Simeon's sire in their debt._

Simeon had just started to relax when he noticed a wicked grin appear on Detective Kohanek's face and heard the man offering to help him practice his shielding. "Detect …, ah, Frank. I am most grateful for your offer." Simeon couldn't continue with the formality his Nosferatu sire expected him to become accustomed to. He had to laugh. Frank was sitting upright in his chair with both feet firmly planted on the floor, his body tilted toward Simeon. The most sober, upright, uptight expression that the former snitch had ever seen had settled over Frank's face as the man appeared to be listening intently to Simeon's every word. He was even nodding politely.

"All right, **Frank," **the former snitch laughed. "I get your point. Nosferatu can be just as 'formal' and 'uptight' as Ventrue, we're just 'formal' and 'uptight' about different things and I understand your point about containing my thoughts as well. I'm the childe of the Nosferatu Primogen; my actions could be used against him and my clan." He grinned impishly at the faint look of surprise he noticed flashing across Frank Kohanek's face. "I don't like politics, but that doesn't mean I don't understand them. I learned a lot about status, group dynamics and dominance games after the death of my Uncle Petros. There's no one to protect an individual, especially a child, on either the streets or in a bureaucracy where "raising" children by a dysfunctional committee, whose members are constantly changing, is the unfortunate outcome of too little money and far too few people to do the job correctly. No one can protect you from the bullies and the people who just want to use you when it's 'everyone's job to protect you. There is no law, it's just a struggle to survive, and anyone who _does_ try to protect you is risking their job, if not their life."

_I've shocked him. _Simeon sighed. "Don't worry about me, Frank. I survived foster hell and I survived the streets." He looked with quiet pride around the room they were sitting in. "I have a fine home." He patted his right leg." I have a straight, whole, and no longer hurting leg and," the young Nosferatu smiled fiercely, his pointed teeth showing, "I have a wonderful, caring, and devoted sire, who has not only given all of that to me, but he's also given me better prospects than I could have ever dreamed of, and a long life in which to enjoy those prospects.

No, Frank," Simeon said in response to the slightly stunned look on the Detective's face, "that doesn't mean I don't chafe at Daedalus' mother-hen instincts and I do dislike his limits on my activities, but I also realize why he's doing it. I'm grateful for it." Simeon's tone was dry when he made his next comment, "I know I have a hard time containing my curiosity. I'm also aware that curiosity could get me, my sire, and my clan into a lot of trouble, and," he finished with a grin, "I'll deny those last three comments if you **ever** tell them to anyone else. I appreciate your advice concerning my shields and I thank you for your offer, but I'll wait a few days and then suggest some more practice to my sire." Simeon's mental smile was lost to Frank as the young Nosferatu strengthened his shields. _I'll pounce on Daedalus' mind. Mental hide and go seek is so much fun._

"So, Frank," he wheedled, "is there anything interesting going on outside my sire's haven?"

* * *

Two Weeks Before Frank

Simeon sighed as his sire opened the door to the Prince's study and ushered him inside. This was embarrassing. He did not see why he couldn't have sat in the shadows while Daedalus and the other Nosferatu elders discussed clan business. Well, maybe he **did** understand, but he didn't want to. He hadn't exactly distinguished himself in the sense and sensibility department lately. Nosiness _was_ an important Nosferatu trait, but he hadn't exactly distinguished himself in his capacity to know when and where to allow that highly valuable, to the Nosferatu, snoopiness out to play. Apparently, neither did most other Nosferatu childer embraced before their thirties so … here he was, about to be 'childer-sat' by the Prince.

With a feeling of relief, Julian Luna signed his name to the last document certifying his consent to the sale of two of his more obscure holding companies. Of course, he was actually selling them to several of his even more obscure holding companies but, he thought with a smirk, I am providing job security to a human forensic accountant or three and good luck to them. If one of the humans manages to penetrate this far into my business, they'll find themselves embraced or blood-bonded. Waste not; want not - anyone that good is too good to waste.

Pushing the completed forms to one side, he looked up as he saw the door to his study open. Ah …, it was Daedalus and the newest addition to the Nosferatu. Julian rose and went to greet his friend and that friend's childe. It was time to repay his Nosferatu friend for the man's help with Julian's most recent childe, Frank Kohanek. _He looked after mine, I can look after his, although, at least I could leave Frank alone in his room and trust him to stay out of trouble there. On the other hand, Frank was thirty-three when I embraced him. Simeon was twenty-three when Daedalus embraced him and he hasn't had any restraints but his own on his actions since he was eleven. My childe did not grow up on the streets and I can't imagine him as the intellectually curious, academic freedom, right-to-know type. I know Caitlyn Byrne's snooping drove him crazy. _Julian sighed as he remembered the human investigative reporter with the long blond hair and the overly curious mind. He still loved her, but he'd done the only thing he could to protect her. He'd gone to Daedalus and, with Nosferatu and Ventrue dominance, backed by Nosferatu alchemy, he'd wiped Caitlyn's mind clean of any memory of him, the Kindred, or even the last three years of her life as 'San Francisco's most feared investigative reporter.' As the Managing Editor of the _San Francisco Chronicle_, Caitlyn had had excellent insurance and as the publisher of said paper, he'd made sure the amnesiac editor of **his** paper had the most golden of parachutes he could provide. Poor Caitlyn; she was lucky to have survived her near drowning with only amnesia. The woman should have known better than to ignore the 'water across the road' sign on her way to meet an informant. The story had made quite the cautionary tale in his newspaper. Julian had even written the editorial himself. Caitlyn was now a journalism instructor at a private school in Spain. One of Archon's brood-sibs was keeping a close eye on her. How fortunate that Julian's late sire had so many brood-sibs scattered about Europe and the Americas - and most of them were princes. Julian's reverie ended as he stopped in front of the waiting Nosferatu.

"Daedalus; you and your childe are welcome here. Please … sit down." The Prince motioned toward the two Queen Anne chairs in front of his ornate rosewood desk, watching his friend's almost imperceptible nod to the younger Nosferatu. Daedalus pointed an index finger at the chair to the right of Julian's desk, before replying to Julian's offer. "My Prince, I must refuse your gracious offer. My clan-mates will be restless, but I thank you for allowing me to leave my childe in your care."

After acknowledging Julian's courteous reply and kissing the ring of office on the Prince's outstretched right hand, Daedalus turned and left. But, before passing through the opened doorway, he turned and said casually, "I'm sure Simeon would be happy to help you search the web for the information you mentioned earlier."

* * *

_From boredom and dread to interest and excitement in two seconds. Even Frank's moods never changed that fast _Prince Julian noted with amusement. _Simeon's more transparent than my youngest. I need to watch him too. Computer geeks, especially this one, aren't exactly known for their discretion._

* * *

Simeon's head rose as he heard Daedalus' parting comment. _Did I hear him correctly? Did he say I get to go web surfing? Official, __**approved**__, web surfing: _Simeon'sdemeanor changed from resigned to excited._ Maybe, it'll even be __**extensive**__ snooping_. He struggled to contain his glee. Simeon was not about to embarrass himself in front of the Prince. He did not want to disappoint his sire. _I am a Nosferatu fledgling. I will be polite, courteous, calm, measured, practical, and oh-so-discrete. Daedalus says there's plenty of time for me to learn about my savage nature later. I wonder what the Prince has planned for me to do. Oh, here he comes now. _

The young Nosferatu watched the slim, dark-haired man with the brown and black mismatched eyes seat himself on the edge of the sold rosewood desk in front of Simeon. The desk was beautiful: Everything in the room was beautiful. Julian Luna had good taste. Now the man's mouth was opening. Simeon focused on the Prince's face. He did not want to miss a word of what the Ventrue was saying.

* * *

_He is attentive, _Julian noted with approval as, one leg idly swinging, he watched the Nosferatu fledgling struggle to project that calm, stoic demeanor the Nosferatu cherished. _He's definitely perked up since he came through my door, but now he's waiting for me to speak._

"Yes, Simeon; I need your help accessing some information, but …" he raised an index finger in warning, "… You go where I tell you to go, and if I tell you to get out, you do so immediately.

Julian watched his Nosferatu guest's head bob in agreement. He made sure not to allow a hint of the amusement he felt at the twenty-four-year-old's earnestness appear on his face when he said mildly, "I need your verbal agreement, childe."

Pleased with Simeon's reply, Prince Julian said briskly, "Yes, if you believe you've been detected, get out and don't wait for my order. But, we'll conduct our investigations later. Now I have audiences to get through.

You can practice your obscurity techniques," he said as he waved the younger man into a well shadowed corner." Julian was laughing to himself. _I_ _can see why Frank likes him so much. Simeon's going to practice his "There's no one here but us Nosferatu. Move along; move along" skills. Irreverence and a well-developed sense of humor should take Daedalus' childe far in the Nosferatu, but he does need to strengthen his shields. The older Nosferatu will drive his sire to the brink of madness with complaints about Simeon's lack of respect for protocol if he doesn't learn to hide his thoughts no matter what distractions he may face. _

_________________________________________________________________

Simeon still shuddered when he remembered some of Julian's 'audiences.' He did not want to give his Prince any reason to pass judgment on him. Julian Luna was fair, he was reasonable, he wasn't even cruel but, the man had a more fiendishly inventive imagination than any Kindred Simeon had met so far, including his sire, Daedalus, and that was just in the Prince's business dealings.

* * *

Two Kindred 'outlaws' were now clanlessand banished from San Francisco. Julian had also called several of his, and his late sire's, brood-sibs to warn them about the crimes against the peace of the city the Brujah and the Toreador had committed. Neither Ethan Jones nor Martin Scott would find refuge in any city in the western half of North America. Martin, a particularly intense Toreador poet, had taken offence with the Brujah's taunting comments about his 'pansy' poetry. The previous night the two had indulged in an especially intense session of push me, shove me in the backstage area of The Haven. Claws fully extended, with bared fangs, and eyes glowing a hellish green, their fight had almost spilled into the public area of The Haven. They'd made so much noise with their snarling, several 'persons' had called the police. Fortunately for the unfortunate pair, Lillie's bouncers, joined by some of Cash's Gangrels, had already stopped the fight by the simple expedient of beating the crap out of them, dragging them to Julian's mansion before the cops could get there and then dumping them at the feet of their exasperated Prince. He'd had them confined in the Prison of Light, preventing them from feeding for three days, before having them driven to the city's edge and tossed out into the noon-day sun. They'd be lucky if they could find any Prince in North America who'd allow them into their city. Simeon was certain the only reason the Prince had not called for a blood-hunt was because the Masquerade had not actually been broken, just severely threatened. No human had seen a fang or a claw where they shouldn't have.

* * *

After the two Kindred miscreants had been dragged away, a helpful Cash closing the door as he left, Julian turned to his 'guest'. Simeon was quivering, all but imperceptible shudders running through his stocky frame. He knew the young Nosferatu had recently fed but there was not the slightest remnant of color in the younger man's face. The Prince sighed.

"Come here," Julian said, voice calm and soothing, as he motioned for Simeon to return to his previous chair. "Sit." Pulling the nearest chair into position beside the younger Kindred, Julian sat and, for the next several minutes, Simeon stared into the flames leaping and dancing in the fireplace to his right. He could feel the attention of the Prince sitting to his left. Daedalus' childe knew Julian Luna was watching him out of the corners of the Ventrue's eyes even though the Prince appeared to be contemplating the embossed ceiling. Simeon was indulging in a little oblique observation of his own. His start when he heard the sound of Julian's voice was barely perceptible.

"Childe," Julian murmured; his voice light and contemplative, "Are you planning to break the Masquerade, embrace someone without my consent, undermine my authority, and/or run naked through the halls of my home screaming obscenities and attacking stray Brujah?"

Simeon's head whipped to his left to find Julian Luna calmly meeting his eyes. "No," he gasped. Simeon's eyes were wide, his jaw hung low. He wished fervently for a scrub brush to wipe the horrifying image inspired by the Prince's last comment from his mind. "No, Prince Julian," the horrified young Nosferatu repeated his initial protest. "I would never do anything like that."

"Good!" Julian nodded briskly before standing and dusting off his hands. "Then you have nothing to fear from me.

Now, I believe we have some web surfing to do. I am looking forward to seeing what information you can find for me."

__________________________________________________________________

Two Weeks Before Julian

Camilla, the mate of the deceased and disgraced former Nosferatu Primogen Goth, was an interesting individual. His sire was correct. The female Nosferatu _could_ strip the hide off someone with her tongue lashings and she deplored stupidity. She also had a soft spot for the young of any species. Simeon didn't mind, too much, when _she c_ame to watch over him, even though Camilla was worse than Daedalus when it came to ferreting out his intentions. He suspected it was from all those children she'd had during her mortal years. It was obvious from the joy and pride in her voice when she spoke of her long deceased family that she had loved being a mother - and she definitely had not lost the knack for it. He'd swear the woman really did have eyes in the back of her head, but she could also be persuaded to tell stories, and he did love to sit and listen to her tell stories of life in the ninth century, and the tenth, and the eleventh ….. It was fascinating comparing what he learned from his sire to what he learned from the second oldest Nosferatu in San Francisco. Camilla had been a peasant when she was embraced; and even before his embrace, Daedalus had been a scholar - and he had been a scholar to Kings. Their differing perspectives on political, social, and even agricultural arts, was fascinating, and informative.

* * *

Fourteen Months Later

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble: Simeon was staring intently at the beaker he had on the Bunsen burner. This was fascinating. Blues, greens, fuchsia …? He _was _going to master this alchemical stuff after all, and on only the second attempt this time! Daedalus had finally relented, and started providing his fledgling with alchemy lessons. This was the fourth time Simeon had been allowed to brew his own potion, and he was getting better at it too. The first time he'd tried to brew something on his own, it had taken him nine tries before he'd gotten it right, and two of those had left scorch marks on the ceiling. He also now knew better than to mix an acid and a base. How fortunate Kindred no longer needed to breath, although it had been a bit difficult to see through some of the smoke and vapor.

_Ah, there it goes. Those sweet little colors have gone day glow. I have a potion. I have a potion. This ought to make the Prince's roses the biggest, brightest, perkiest, most colorful things in the history of the San Francisco Garden Show. Better be careful though_, the Nosferatu fledgling thought as he reached out to lower the flame. _I need to lower this gradually. Three hours isn't that long in the life of a Kindred and I am a Nosferatu. I am __**patient**__. _

Three hours later, Simeon sighed in relief as he turned the burner off. It's done; now to let it cool. Clean rags in hand, he carefully picked the beaker up and carried it over to one of the stacks of shelves lining the wall where he placed it on an empty smiley face trivet. Brushing his claws against his blue one-hundred-percent cotton shirt in honor of the smiley face, he grinned. _I'm still the best dumpster diver in the City._

"… And a bit of a smug one too, childe."

At the sound of his sire's voice, Simeon turned to his right. Daedalus was there. The elder Nosferatu, cigarette in hand, a perfectly round smoke ring hanging in front of him was leaning casually against the side of the entrance to their inner haven. Laughing, the younger Nosferatu replied innocently, "Well, yes I am, but haven't you me told to take pride in everything I do?"

Daedalus' lips twitched. "It **is **gratifying to have such an obedient childe, one who pays _such _close attention to my words," he agreed, his tone equally innocent. Dropping the cigarette to the floor, he quickly stubbed it out, straightened, and walked over to the shelves. After several minutes of eyeing and sniffing the contents of the still decidedly warm beaker, he turned to Simeon and with quiet pride and approval showing in his eyes and voice said, "You've done well. This should make Julian's roses the best in the San Francisco Garden Show, and you did it on the second attempt. Are you ready for another lesson?"

His eyes sparkling with good humor, Daedalus' childe smiled. "Of course, I am," He promptly replied.

"Good," Daedalus said, his tone now serious. "I need you to clear the library table and then gather the ingredients for a sedating potion; a **Kindred** sedating potion. Sonny called and Frank Kohanek was shot in the aftermath of the Jason Tyler raid." The Nosferatu Primogen raised a calming hand. His childe had learned better control of his reactions in the over two years since his embrace, but the slight stiffening of the younger Nosferatu's body and the barely visible hint of alarm in his fledgling's eyes was clearly visible to Simeon's sire. "Your friend will be fine, childe and his sire will be here shortly. An anxious and agitated Julian Luna and an almost certainly cranky Frank Kohanek will be more than enough for me to deal with. You are my trusted assistant and I rely on you. I need you calm. I know you will not fail me. " Daedalus noted the effect his words had on his childe.

Simeon was standing straight, his weight balanced evenly on both feet. His eyes were shining. He was confident and he was pleased. His sire did not give verbal praise often, but when he did Simeon knew that he meant it. The younger Nosferatu nodded briskly and grabbing a nearby basket headed toward the table. Just before reaching his goal, he turned and asked, "What about Tyler and the shooter?" Once he heard his sire's reply. Simeon's pointed teeth were showing when he responded to Daedalus' fierce grin with one of his own, "Good, I'm hungry, too."

_______________________________________________________________________

Several Decades Later

The computer on the battered computer desk was far from battered. The Nosferatu sitting at the desk had made sure of that. His computer was the finest known to Nosferatu or Man. He'd designed some of the hardware himself. He knew no human had access to the resources he had. Simeon had made sure of that himself. His security and anti-hacker software not only detected, prevented, and 'outed' any intruder into Kindred systems, it also detected any research involving hardware advances. Not that detecting hardware research had really been necessary for the last twenty years. The humans were busy destroying themselves, and they appeared to be intent on taking the rest of the world with them. He rarely had time to sit and discuss anything with his sire anymore, much less the philosophy and history discussions they used to have. Hell, he even missed their 'discussions' of Nosferatu norms and mores. The only 'discussions' Daedalus had anymore, were with Julian Luna and with the Prince's bodyguard, Cash, and those 'discussions' were when they were 'discussing' the defense of the city. His sire was his Prince's primary strategist and general: Daedalus was in charge of the defense of the city. Cash, the Gangrel Primogen, was in charge of the Prince's personal defense.

Simeon ran his hand over his bald head and sighed. He might still look the twenty-three years old he had been before his embrace, but he was over sixty now. His sire had released him, presenting him to the Prince, more than three decades ago and he'd had his own haven for almost that long. True, it wasn't far from Daedalus' but it was his and he had three rooms too. Simeon shrugged his shoulders. It was time to take a break. Standing, he moved to one of the several 'comfy' chairs his sire had gifted him with when he'd moved to his own haven, stopping on the way to grab a one of his favorite alchemical texts from one of several shelves he had set up against his rear wall. Daedalus had gifted him with several other things upon his removal from his sire's haven. A portrait of a grinning young Nosferatu was hung over the battered computer desk. Simeon was seated at Daedalus' old library table, the old alchemical text he now had in his hands. He'd just had his first lesson. Daedalus had pointed to three potions, and asked him which one he wanted to learn first. Simeon had barely been able to contain his excitement. Most of his alchemical equipment had come from his sire as well, but Simeon had scrounged his own bed, he thought he'd managed to politely refuse the cot he'd used when he still lived with his sire. He'd also scrounged the computer desk. _Yup, I'm still the best dumpster diver in the city. _

"… and still the smuggest one in the city."

Simeon turned to his right. His sire was standing in the doorway to his inner haven. A brilliant smile lit the younger Nosferatu's face as he hurried to the doorway. "Daedalus: You are welcome in my haven. Please, enter freely." He gestured toward his only wing-backed chair. The one he'd made sure to scrounge up for whenever his sire might choose to visit. "May I get you some wine?"

_My childe is a childe any Kindred could be proud of and I thank whatever creative force there exists in this universe that I can finally leave him to his own devices without worrying if he'll go snooping where sensible Kindred fear to tread. At least I can be confident that if he does, no one else will find out unless __**he **__wants them to. His shields are impervious to anyone except me. He's done well. _Daedalus' feelings of pride and fondness for his childe showed in his voice and eyes as he settled into the wing-backed chair, looked up and said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Simeon. I would be pleased to accept your wine."

Simeon smiled with pleasure as he went to fetch a bottle of the port he'd been saving for the last thirty years, ever since Frank Kohanek had introduced him to the wonders of port just after the Nosferatu had left Daedalus' haven. _I like Beaujolais, Bordeaux, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot too, but I want the best for Daedalus._

The elder Nosferatu sniffed appreciatively as his hand closed about the delicately etched wine goblet handed to him. Port - and it was older than his childe. The Nosferatu Primogen also fought, and won, an effort to suppress his amusement. A conga line of dancing rats, blood dripping daintily from their teeny, tiny, extremely cute little fangs was etched around the bowl of the goblet. Simeon had a well-developed, very twisted sense of humor. He also had good taste and Daedalus knew the development of this particular _taste_ was not due to **his **efforts. While the Nosferatu ancient did enjoy sharing a glass of wine with his Ventrue friends, it was not something he sought on his own, at least not since the days before his embrace, and the Greek wines of his youth had vanished from the world long before even Camilla had been born. No, Daedalus knew who had taught his childe the joys of viniculture, vintages, wineries, and etiquette. Who would have thought Julian's childe, Frank Kohanek, would become so enamored of the liquid. Daedalus would have thought the man would have been more of the beer type, like his brood-brother, Sonny. Frank now owned one of the only two remaining vineyards and wineries on the West Coast, and he was partners with his sire in the other. He'd also recruited Simeon as his secondary vintner. Nosferatu alchemy and highly developed Ventrue taste buds, not to mention Ventrue business techniques, were a powerful combination and - a very lucrative one for the Nosferatu. Like a true Nosferatu, Simeon was far more interested in information than money, although he wouldn't turn down any computer technology Frank, or Frank's sire, might bring to him.

Frank Kohanek's loyalties were clear - his first loyalty was, and would always be, to his sire, and his Prince. But, he would also trade information, and favors, with a close friend and trusted ally, and with one of the Prince's favorite childer in his debt, Daedalus' childe often knew more, and sooner, about the scandals, conspiracies, and other goings on in the human and Kindred world than anyone, except Julian. In many ways, Simeon knew more than his Prince, _as a Nosferatu ought to_, Simeon's sire thought proudly. It is our job to synthesize: Our job to obtain as much information, from as many sources as we possibly can, and _my_ childe is the finest snoop we've found in several generations. He's not seventy yet, including his mortal years, and he's already our Prince's spymaster. Daedalus shook himself out of his reverie. _If I'm not careful, __**I'll**__ be the smuggest Nosferatu in the city._

* * *

"The Blues are pushing into Haight-Ashbury. The Reds are trying to overrun the Mission and the Castro Districts, the Tongs are doing their best to break out of Chinatown, and Hunters are oozing out of the wainscoting. But … on a more positive note," The speaker said brightly, "the Brujah are holding the wharves, your Ventrue are still maintaining a tenacious hold on the financial district and the Gangrel have managed to provide a certain amount of protection and order to the shanty towns the humans have set up in the gardens and groves of Tilden Park. Now that the humans have used up all the fossil fuels in their military endeavors, sea levels appear to have stopped rising so fast." The speaker smiled as he waved his right hand in the general direction of the figures showing on the chart he had just drawn on the chalk-board.

Julian Luna leaned, bemused, against the back of his chair, his forearms resting casually on the well polished rosewood arms of said chair. He was seated at the head of his intricately inlaid mahogany conclave-table, the Primogens of the five Kindred Clans of San Francisco joining him around the table. To his right was Sonny Toussaint, his childe as well as Ventrue Primogen, continuing counter-clockwise seated around the table were the Toreador Primogen, Lilly Langtree, Cameron, the Brujah Primogen, Daedalus of the Nosferatu, and seated to the left of his Prince, the Gangrel Primogen, Cash. Julian's second eldest childe, Frank Kohanek, stood behind his brood-brother. With the exception of the Toreador and the Nosferatu, all appeared to be bemused by the breezy briefing being supplied by Julian's Nosferatu spymaster. Stephan Stefanopoulos was pacing, his steps as brisk as his speech as he divided his attention between the large chalk-board facing Julian against the backdrop of the rosewood covered walls, the individuals gathered about the table and the leaping, crackling flames of the fire dancing in the fireplace behind Julian. After, when to Simeon's belief, he had thoroughly explained the information illustrated by his chalked words, diagrams, and statistics, the Nosferatu would circle the table, inviting comments from the various Kindred as he passed by. _He's more contained and focused than when we first met, but my spymaster is just as intense. At least he no longer fears me, for me perhaps … definitely for his sire … and for the Clans as well._ Julian feared for the Kindred too. In fact, he was extremely displeased, disgusted and distressed concerning the current state of world affairs. _They've finally done it. The humans are on the verge of destroying this world. I give it another two hundred years at most and that's only if the humans stop fighting over the last sources of fresh water and start preserving what they have left. Even if, as Simeon says, the sea levels have stopped rising as rapidly, they are still rising. __Transporting troops and weapons is a fuel thirsty business. _As grave as Julian's thoughts were, he could still appreciate the grim humor in Simeon's last comment. _Humanity's collective tantrum may give us time to plan a way off this planet, but we need to survive first and we need humanity to survive as well. As the humans say, can't live with them, can't live without them._

_He's winding down. _Julian and the remainder of San Francisco's Conclave watched as Daedalus' self-possessed childe walked confidently back to his chalkboard, turned and finished, saying, "… and since Luna House has become harder to defend, I recommend the Clans move to the Presidio. It **was** originally a military base." With a wave of his hand, the Nosferatu indicated the man in the grey tailor-made suit standing calmly behind the Ventrue Primogen. "I'll turn the floor over to Frank now."

Frank's eyes flickered to his left to meet Julian's. With a barely perceptible nod his sire, and Prince, signaled his agreement. Stepping back from Sonny, the Prince's lead investigator moved to join Simeon at the chalk board. Frank calmly plucked the chalk from the Nosferatu's outstretched hand before beginning. "Jeremiah Mosely has emerged as the winner in the Blue's leadership squabble." Before continuing, Kohanek's eyes met in turn those of each of the Kindred seated around the mahogany table. "As we all know, he's the most violent and territorial of the five contenders; unfortunately, he's also not stupid. Frank's eyes flickered briefly to his sire's face before he turned to focus on the Brujah Primogen, Cameron. The voice of the Prince's second eldest 'son' and primary investigator was as bland as the man's facial expression when Frank spoke. "Perhaps the Brujah would like to share their insights into Mr. Mosely's character. He has met, several times, with their Primogen."

* * *

Eight Hundred and Thirty-Five Years Later

The sheer beauty and brilliance of the multitudinous lights of the city sparkling below reminded him of lost San Francisco. Too few of those existing in this time remembered that city, even amongst the Kindred. The no-longer-young Nosferatu was indulging in a bit of melancholy before he had to attend to his Prince. _Another potential breach of the Masquerade: wonderful. I wonder what Frank's bringing in __**this**__ time. It's been __**how**__ many years since the Wars for Independence and Frank still has clean up duty. He's keeping secrets too. All he said in his last wave was that he was bringing me a present. Sneaky shit. I can't find out what it is. The Miranda scandal has taken over the Cortex and my informants have all discovered the joys of amnesia when it comes to Frank. He must have my sire on his side. _

Simeon paused for a moment of reflection. One of his Cortex buddies had been lost. He'd been keeping an eye on Mr. Universe for years: The young man would have made a fine Nosferatu, but the damned Alliance had destroyed a potential childe - his potential childe. Mr. Universe had to be dead. No Operative of the Alliance would have left a witness to their atrocities behind, especially one who had the ability to hack into all the ever so precious secrets of the Alliance politicos and bureaucrats. Simeon would remember, and he would find, and destroy, the ones who had destroyed what should have been his. The younger hacker had still had a lot to learn about subtlety, Simeon would never be found on the network he and his protégés had helped to found. Nosferatu alchemy still had its uses and applications.

The Primogen of the Inner Worlds Nosferatu snapped his fingers. It was time to stop these melancholy thoughts. He was content with what he now had, but this place had none of the wildness, wonder and magic of vanished Earth. The 'wild' areas on this world had all been carefully situated and painstakingly planned when this giant space rock had been terraformed centuries ago. He missed the chaos of Earth-that-Was. Here, he knew where every bush was planted. Hell, he'd even planted some of them. That lilac to his right, the deep reddish-purple one, the one just over the crest of the next hill, beside the entrance to the path meandering through High-Prince Julian's carefully tended sixty-eight acres of forest. The stocky, bald-headed man had planted the bush the night his sire had left to become Prince of the Outer Worlds. Daedalus had asked his childe to remain with the High-Prince and Simeon had dutifully complied.

Faint echoes of distant shuttles and air cars could be heard in the clear, still air. As the echoes became less they caught the attention of the Nosferatu Primogen. If any human had been watching, Simeon would have appeared to fade into the shadows under a nearby spruce. The Nosferatu's head swept back and forth as his eyes scanned the skies, searching for the approach air car. Around him he could feel the interest the approaching transport was arousing from Julian Luna's Gangrel and Ventrue bodyguards. Simeon grinned, pointed incisors peeking through the gap between his parted lips. There was Camilla's childe, Cora, standing in the shadows beside the entrance to Julian's forest. He could depend on the sheer nosiness potential of his Nosferatu - they wanted to know what was going on. He could also depend on their loyalty to him. His brood-sib Gemma and her mate Padraig were standing at the forest's edge and he spotted others nearby. Bless Julian Luna and his Prince's paranoid landscape artists. There were plenty of places for a Kindred to conceal their presence.

A few moments later, Simeon laughed. It was Frank Kohanek. He recognized that flight pattern. All of Julian Luna's people had their own identifying patterns and some of them, including Frank Kohanek, had several. This one was Frank's, 'I've got something interesting' pattern. The Nosferatu wondered what his friend had brought. Even Julian Luna had been almost insufferably pleased with himself for the last week and a half. _They're in it together, all of them, my sire, Kohanek, and the Prince. _Simeon was a bit annoyed. _I should have been able to find out what they've been concealing. _No Nosferatu liked mysteries, at least not the ones he, or she, couldn't solve._ I can't see him bringing me a new vintage from the Outer Worlds. We both have far more taste than that. Well, since Archon Kohanek went to so much trouble to surprise me, I suppose I shouldn't keep him and our 'good' High-Prince waiting._

_

* * *

_

Frank Kohanek, one of the two Archons to the High-Prince of the Kindred, laughed as he stood looking down on the young man lying on his Sire's couch. "Julian, it'll be like déjà vu all over again," he said as glanced over his shoulder at the nearby fireplace. His sire was standing, right shoulder leaning casually against the end of the mahogany inlaid mantle. There was a cheerfully crackling fire laid on the hearth. Frank sniffed appreciatively. Cedar and apple wood were his favorites.

Julian Luna, High Prince of the Kindred, and Prince of Londinium, watched with thinly veiled amusement as his second eldest remaining childe smirked in anticipation of the coupe Frank was about to pull on his friend. _I've been well served by my childer. It's not often a non-Nosferatu can out maneuver and out sneak a Nosferatu. I'm proud of you Frank. I knew you would make a fine addition to my family, our clan and the Kindred. You make a fine Yenta too. _Julian briefly contemplated the wonders and joys of serendipity as he waited for the Nosferatu Primogen to join them. After discussing the future of their 'guest' with Simeon, he planned to retire to his library with Frank to hear the rest of his Archon's report.

"Ah, there you are." Julian Luna pushed away from the mantle and went to greet his oldest, and closest, friend's childe. "Come in. Would you like to share a glass of wine? Frank brought a bottle of the ten-year-old Bordeaux from your vineyards on New California back with him. We have a threat to the Masquerade to discuss." As Julian was talking, he was also steering his guest across the well polished age-darkened oak tiles of his floor. Stopping at the foot of the silver-grey leather sofa the Prince pointed to the slender, swarthy, black-haired young man, with the riotous curls, asleep on his couch. "As a human, he's a walking, talking Masquerade breech waiting to happen. He would also be a valuable addition to the clans if he could learn to contain his inappropriate curiosity, without that restraint he could be a danger to us. The only way I can let him live is if he's embraced and, for me to allow that embrace, I need a Kindred I can trust to protect, control and contain him while they teach him when, where and how to exercise that curiosity of his. Do you have any suggestions, Simeon?" Julian asked, head titled to his left, right eyebrow raised in question, and with a voice as smooth and earnest as silk.

Simeon stood still, staring down at the blanket wrapped figure lying on Julian's couch. His head rose. The Nosferatu looked to Julian on his left: He looked to Frank on his right. Bookends - both were standing at opposite ends of the divan - and both were smirking at him. Oh, he didn't doubt Julian was serious when he said the young man lying on his couch had to be embraced or die, but he knew Julian would do everything in his power to persuade the cortex geek to consent to an embrace. He also didn't doubt that both of the Ventrue smirking at him from their ends of the couch were insufferably pleased with themselves. He ought to recognize that emotion. Daedalus had often teased him about his own tendency toward smugness. Simeon watched with mild bemusement as Frank Kohanek's mouth opened. _I wonder what's going to come out of it._

"You've been missing yourself lately. So … I thought I'd bring you yourself." Frank stated innocently as he waved a hand at the peacefully sleeping Mr. Universe."

"If he agrees to accept your embrace, you have my permission to embrace him." Julian stated as, with a nod of his head, he indicated for Frank to precede him out the door. "We'll be in my library if you need me."

As he was walking out the door, Julian turned back to say, "Oh, before I forget. Once he becomes your childe would you _please _see to it that if he wants a mate, he finds one amongst the Kindred - No 'Lovebots.' We don't need someone who can only relate to something that can't talk back." The corners of Julian's eyes crinkled as his lips rose into a broad grin. "Congratulations, Simeon. Both your sire and I have every confidence in you." Nodding, he turned and left, leaving the stunned Nosferatu staring down at his, hopefully, soon-to-be childe.

Simeon thought, as a brilliant grin slowly spread across his face, _I can do this. I know he'll want our knowledge and I know he'll enjoy our life. Having intelligent females who will actually enjoy talking with him won't hurt either, but I still won't forget those who tried to destroy him and I won't stop until they are no longer a threat to him or any others of our kind. Hands of Blue indeed. _

9


End file.
